Divorce Apocalypse
by Charmed Sweetly
Summary: Is it wrong to be wondering about your ex-husband during a zombie apocalypse? Is it wrong to want to see him again? No, especially if your ex-husband is Daryl Dixon. AU


**A/N: **This is a runaway plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. I spent the night writing this, and hopefully you agree that it was decent enough to share.

In this, set pre-Apocalypse as well as Season 1, episode 2 (Guts). Merle was not part of the group that went to Atlanta.

Happy reading,

Charmed

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**Divorce Apocalypse**

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There were certain things that you long for when the world is quickly heading down the train.

Safe shelter to stay in.

An endless supply of food and water.

Clothing that'll keep you warm, and fits you, at least decent enough.

Your family and friends to remain safe, preferably with you. Or at least to reunite with them (once again, preferably alive and unharmed).

A big one on everyone's list is undoubtedly the apocalypse calling it a day and just getting over with so everyone can tidy the world up and get on with their regularly scheduled life.

All good things to want during an end-of-the-world scenario, especially when it involves the undead rising and trying to eat your flesh.

One thing that shouldn't be on your list was hoping to find your ex-husband in this endlessly bleak existence, and hoping he's alright. Especially when you'd only been married for a week, and then divorced a little over a week as well.

She'd known quite a few girlfriends who had dreamed up this particular cannibalistic cruelty with their own ex-boyfriends after a particularly bad break up.

She wouldn't, for the life of her, wish the end for Daryl Dixon. Not that particular kind, or any kind of death scenario.

Daryl Dixon was different.

All it took was a broken down car for her to meet the backwoods redneck who surprisingly was savvy in things she wouldn't have thought a redneck capable of. Successfully running and owning his own junkyard and automotive repair shop, he'd manage to make quick work at finding, and fixing her car problems.

They'd bantered all the while, and the blonde woman could easily recall the smirk quirking up his full lips after a jabbing comment made in a slow southern drawl that smoothed over her faster than warm sticky honey.

She'd felt a physical attraction when he'd first got out of his own impressive, she'd have to admit, 1965 black Ford Thunderbird. He'd had a swagger about him then too, his temper simmering as he got stuck behind "some city slicker in her fancy little town car with no clue how to maintain it properly".

It was when he talked though, when they'd teased and debated and taunted, that she first felt the pulls of a lasting attraction, or at least, a deepening crush.

She'd been happy to find they both seemed pleased for her to be staying for the week in his small rural Georgia town, working a Pro-Bono case she'd accepted for the hell of it. Granted his sort of pleased seemed only to be the twinkle in his blue eyes that managed to give him away.

Fate, as it was, had seemed to be tossing her continuously into his path, at least that's what she'd come to the idea of in recent days. As he'd worked on the car, she'd borrowed his main phone line, calling the small inn she'd be staying for the duration, finding they'd already given up her room to a honeymooning couple. Frustrated she'd have no place to stay, she stomped outside asking him if there were any other places for rent within an easy enough walking distance from town.

They'd both seemed surprised when he offered her the extra room upstairs, him more so than her, though he made no move to take back the offer. Feeling herself foolishly become excited, she had nodded before he'd have a chance to rethink his offer, quickly asking if she could borrow a car on the lot to at least take her to her client. (He couldn't kick her out if she wasn't there to be kicked out.)

There was sick sense of humour that swept over Andrea when her car stalled, and then once again stopped, for one reason or another, finding her once again planted on the front porch of his shop. A sheepish grin found its way onto her face as he shot her dirty (half-hearted) annoyed looks before sticking himself under the hood. She'd swear to anyone who would ask that she had seen his lips quirk up just a little.

Then the week got messy when her feelings got incredibly, rapidly involved, and the night before she'd have to leave in the morning, they'd both gotten ridiculously drunk… and _married._ Las Vegas may have been notorious for quickie marriages, but a determined drunk civil-rights lawyer and an equally determined drunken mechanic really couldn't be tamed.

She'd stayed with him when the divorce proceedings were happening, when they'd talk and yell and she'd be alert enough to remember his kisses, as well as the kitchen counter, the stairs, the back of the Thunderbird. Together they tracked down their chapel, and burnt all their purchased wedding memorabilia (except one starry eyed photo of them she'd manage to tuck away). Somewhere between seeing him through the smoke of her overheated engine, and fiddling with his simple gold wedding band as he slept, Andrea realized her heart was in trouble.

It was foolish, it was completely unlike her, but he made her weak, just with a sweetened murmured drawl of Darlin' in the early mornings when he was just on the verge of waking, his arms wrapped around her waist as their fingers tangled together.

When all that was left was signing their signatures, she'd scribbled her signature on the papers in the dead of night, leaving a post-it note telling him to call if he needed anything else from her.

It was a desperate hope that maybe he'd call, just so she could hear him again.

Maybe he'd even notice she stole the second car he'd had to fix for her instead of her own BMW, maybe he'd want it back enough that he'd want to see her face again. Miserable without him, knowing it wasn't fair to keep him with the situation she had got them into, she still held onto the hope maybe he'd seek her out.

She wouldn't know though, not when the phone lines went dead shortly after the outbreak, and definitely not when she was stranded in the middle of a department store, steeling herself for a full-on assault.

Andrea grimaced, staring out at the store front windows, the countless walkers banging against the door forcing them to climb upwards to the rooftop. She wondered where in hell Glenn was, having raced off after someone. Not for the first time she wondered how she and Amy would be able to exist with so many people when they'd been on their own for a while.

Anger taking root, she'd taken it out on the new guy Glenn brought back – someone who literally looked like he stepped out of an old Western.

"Because of you, we're all going to _die,_" she snapped at him.

The man, Rick, shook his head, as Glenn spoke up. "No, there's this guy we met up with, said he came out here, said he was looking for _you._"

The blonde stared at him, as the others kept watch, intent.

"Look, he said he's met up with the others at camp." Glenn told her. "He looked really mad you were stuck there, or that I left you or whatever. We're going to meet up with him round back, we've gotta go."

Rushing to the delivery area, everyone stood tense, barricading the connecting door from the storefront, alert to any sounds of breaking glass and the overrunning of walkers. As they waited, Glenn heard the noise of a car blaring in the background, before the sound of a honking truck sounded outside the delivery truck garage.

As they all rushed forward, Andrea met the blue-eyed gaze of her mechanic saviour.

Pushing past the rest, she climbed up in the passenger's side as the others clambered into the back. Unsure of what to say, she just stared into his cool gaze before she felt the surprising pressure of his kiss.

Out of breath, and needing to move, he gave her a steady look before driving them away.

There was a long silence between them, the blaring car alarm the most noise they could hear.

"Ya could've gotten yourself killed," Daryl mutters, following the noise Merle was making in the fancy BMW his younger brother had found left behind at his junkyard and spent all his time fixing.

Andrea stared at him. "Thank you for doing that, for saving us."

"Did it for you," he drawled out, a faint heat creeping onto his cheeks. "Couldn't leave my wife, could I?"

_Wife?_

"But…the divorce. I signed the papers, Daryl," the woman told him earnestly. "I'm sure I signed all of them. I'm so sorry."

"You did sign all of 'em, but I didn't sign anything. And that apology best better be for leavin' me in the middle of the night like some coward." He sighs. "I'm always gonna find you, Andrea. Or you're always gonna find me. Whatever the hell this is, we're not meant to be separated. At least I thought you knew that too."

Heart thundering, she's staring at him, unsure her words will form properly. "I… I thought it was what you wanted. I didn't want you thinking I trapped you. Or that it was a mistake."

"Dollface, you did trap me. Snared the hell out of me. But this whole marriage thing is a two-way trap. As much as I'm stuck to you, you're stuck to me too. No mistakes about it." The smirk and twinkle light his eyes. "Plus, if I had any doubts you loved me, all I need to do is remember that doe-eyed look you gave me the moment you saw me, back there."

Shoving him softly, and feeling more reassured about where she stood with him, despite the people in the back of the truck he was driving, the people back at camp, and the walkers littering the streets everywhere, she felt her confidence return. The feeling of protectiveness , safety, and genuine diamond-in-the-rough warmth that was so inherently Daryl Dixon surrounded her.

"If I had any doubts you were in love with me, I'd just have to remember you went into a city swarming with walkers to come save me." She grinned. "That and the fact that you kept our wedding photo stashed away."

There was a silence before, she heard him mutter, "Shut up." Another silence before, "How in hell would you know that anyway?"

"I didn't, but thanks for letting me know," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, I have one saved too."

"Ya, your sister told me you were mooning over it, all longing and sigh-filled," he chuckled.

"Shut up, Dixon." Andrea smiled. "I love you, though."

"Love ya too," he says gruffly, amusing her.

Fingering his shirt sleeves, she says softly, "Can't believe you're wearing sleeves."

"Special occasion," he told her. "Went trackin' my wife down."

"You never wear sleeves, you should take them off."

"You can kiss me into submission and rip my shirt off, later, Dollface, but 'm drivin' at the moment. I seem to remember you being very good at the ripping." He gave her a quick peck on the lips though, making her heart do that school-girl flutter. "Oh, and Dixon, no chance in hell you're leavin' me again. You'll be lucky I even let you outta my sight for longer than it takes to shoot down a squirrel."

Like she'd ever leave him again.

Sure, they still had a lot to work out, but what matters is that they'd go into this marriage eyes wide open, and ready to fight for it.

She'd come to quite a conclusion, arrogant, presumptuous, but her own secret conclusion.

_The world goes to hell when we're not together._

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**A/N:** Let me know what you think! I really liked the idea of them being married and honestly, it's cannon in my head that Daryl will always look for Andrea, and vice versa.

Til the next fic.

Charmed


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